A Tale Untold
by sarcasticromantic0494
Summary: After having disappeared for eight years, Hermione returns to accept a job offer at Hogwarts. What secrets does she bring with her? Whose lives are forever changed? Rated for future content.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I don't own any of this, except for original characters and plot.

**A Tale Untold**

**Chapter One**

She stood just outside the wrought iron gate, peering through the bars at the figure that lurked just above the horizon. Never in the eight years that she had been gone had she thought she'd be back here, back at the place where it all began. She'd vowed never to return to this place. She'd spent years trying to push its memories from her mind. Almost succeeded, too. And then, she'd received the damned letter that had brought her here today.

Flicking her wrist ever so slightly, a large glowing otter appeared and began swimming up to the building that loomed ahead. Through hazel eyes the woman watched it slowly fade into the distance, twisting and turning happily. She remembered a time when she'd been the same way, heading up the same path to the same place.

Shortly after the small animal had completely disappeared from sight, the heavy gates swung open to allow her entrance.

The woman moved her small 5'4 stature through the newly made opening. She didn't even jump when the metal bars clanked together no even five seconds after she'd passed through them. Awaiting her on the other side of the barrier was a small carriage drawn by a beautiful creature. The beauty of the animal, however, only brought morbid thoughts to mind.

She'd wanted to cry when she was first able to see the beings. It was a sight she could have gone forever without seeing, one she desperately wished she had. For a normally overly curious girl, this revelation had been a new one for her. For most of her life, she'd dreamed of learning and seeing everything the world had to offer. She now knew, though, that some things weren't worth the pain and horror that went with it.

Even now, eight years after that first, fateful sighting, she was plagued with the cries and screams that had originally haunted her. The memories were overwhelming. Blood and tears and anger and pain seeped into every aspect of her mind. She froze for a moment, wondering if she could do it, if she could face the past and all it had meant for her. She shook her head to clear herself of the memories, and opened the door to the six-person carriage.

Stepping inside the small enclosed space, memories flooded her mind once more as she took in the red velvet cushions on the long opposing benches. These memories were happy ones, though, filled with laughter and smiles and jokes. The memories were sharp, vivid. She could remember every little detail, feeling, sound, color.

They cut through her with more pain and more agony than the previous memories.

The carriage lurched forward abruptly. The woman was thrown into the seat violently. She hit her head on the wood just mere centimeters from where the padded cushion ended. The loud crack of her temple hitting the solid wall reverberated throughout the carriage and her head. Sinking against the red velvet, she brought her hand to her forehead and massaged her hurt temple lightly.

The meeting was already starting poorly. She was almost thirty minutes late due to some unfortunate circumstances. It had begun raining as well, soaking her clothes and hair to the bone, only adding to the misery of the cold and windy November weather. Not to mention she didn't want to be there in the first place. She was more than a tad disgruntled.

The rid up the sloping path was peaceful, considering. It was a short seven minutes of nature sights lining the only visible path up to a large, looming castle.

Her heart both sank and rose at the sight of the familiar building growing. From the carriage, she could begin to see the busy movement in the corridors and on the grounds. Dozens and dozens of adolescent teenagers clad in familiar black robes and ties moved inside the castle. She smiled grimly, pushing the again returning memories from her mind once more.

The carriage slowly pulled to a stop in front of the brown stone steps that led to two over-sized wooden doors. A student stood silently on the steps, anticipating her arrival with what looked like as much enthusiasm as anticipating a test one knew he was about to fail. He was wearing the custom uniform of black robes, however his donned a small silver badge pinned on his breast. Without even having to inspect the badge itself, the woman in the carriage knew that emblazoned upon the small silver pin were the letters "HB". Before the carriage came to a complete stop, the boy was bounding down the steps quickly to open the door and help her out.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Granger," he greeted her by name, something she internally cringed at. "I hope your journey was pleasant."

"It was, thank you, Mr?" she inquired politely.

"Laney, ma'am. Alex Laney. I'm the Head Boy at Hogwarts this year," Laney introduced himself. "Professor McGonagall sent me to receive you. She was dealing with a rather…uncooperative student at the time."

"Very well, Mr. Laney. Lead the way." Her hand gestured for him to show her where it is she was to go. He took the direction well, obviously just as eager as she was to deliver her to the Headmistress.

When the pair stepped inside the castle, Hermione Granger was greeted with the still familiar sounds of teenage chatter and shuffling students. The sight of the red, green, blue, and yellow jewel filled hourglasses caused her to emit a soft chuckle, remembering just how many of those small jewels she had both won and lost for her house.

The castle hadn't changed much since she'd been gone. The point systems were, of course, still intact, as were the tables that thousands of students had once sat at. The students still wore the same customary ties and robes identifying them with their house and peers. The smell of the incredibly delicious breakfast foods wafting from the Great Hall was still the same, as well.

Naturally, though, the war had had a definite impact on the ancient school. Plaques dedicated to remembering those that were lost hung in the main foyer of the school. Upon seeing the gold plated wall, Hermione felt tears begin to flood her eyes. She blinked them away quickly, willing herself to stay strong.

Hermione jerked her eyes to the back of Alex, forcing herself to focus solely on him. He led her to the statue of the gargoyle that faithfully guarded the Head's office. She'd seen the gargoyle many a time, and knew him well. His name was Henry.

"Hello, Henry," she said softly. The gargoyle sprang to life immediately.

"What? What? Who said my name?" He cried blearily, having just been woken from sleep. His eyes landed on her. "Well I'll be damned. Hermione Granger, is that you?"

"In flesh and blood," she said warmly. Hermione stepped closer and hugged the stone statue. Perfectly sculpted arms engulfed her in a light squeeze – well, what Henry seemed to think was a light squeeze at least. To Hermione, it was something akin to being mauled by Grawp again.

Alex, feeling uncomfortable at the odd display of affection between woman and statue, cleared his throat and awkwardly said, "Well, then…ummm…I suppose I'll leave you here. The password is 'Snickers.'"

"Thank you, Mr. Laney. I'll be sure to let Professor McGonagall know what a help you were."

"Thank you, Ms. Granger. Enjoy your visit," he said rather formally, then walked off. Hermione waited until she no longer heard the soft patter of his footsteps before she spoke to Henry again.

"How are you, old friend? Met anyone who's been up here as many times as me?" Henry laughed, big and boisterously.

"I don't think anyone could compare to your, deary. Your reputation has nothing to worry about. As for myself, well, I've been kind of lonely. No one really talks to me. They just give the password and ignore me, for the most part."

"Oh, Henry. I'm so sorry!"

"'s all right. I suppose you get used to it after a while," he said, resigned. The statue froze for a moment, stone eyes glazed over. When he came back to consciousness, he said, "The Headmistress is requesting you come in now."

Hermione patted his cheek affectionately. "I'll stop by and talk with you after I'm done."

Henry smiled a smile so wide it seemed as if the stone that was his face would crack and then began turning, slowly lifting her to the door of the office. With a soft smile to her old friend, she stepped off the platform and entered the already open door that beckoned her in.

The room was almost exactly the same as she remembered it. Portraits of headmasters past lined the walls, as did bookshelves filled to the brim with old leather bound books. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the Sword of Gryffindor had been returned to its perch behind a glass case. The tattered and ancient Sorting Hat was still placed regally atop a bookcase, his eyes shut and his mouth emitting a soft snore. A large oak desk was placed strategically in the center of the room, as before, only this time the face behind it was not one with a long white beard and familiar twinkling blue eyes. Instead, it was the face of Professor McGonagall that stared back at her.

She had known before she'd stepped foot on the grounds that the current Headmistress was none other than her former Head of House, but in spite of that knowledge, Hermione couldn't believe the sight before her. The older witch stood and smiled brightly at Hermione before bustling around the desk and engulfing the younger woman in a bone-crushing hug.

"Oh, Hermione!" she cried. "It's so good to see you, to know you're safe!"

"I'm glad you're still well, Professor," Hermione responded.

"Now, Hermione, we both know that I'm not you're Professor. I must insist that you call me Minerva," she chastised whilst pulling out from the hug and resuming her seat. Minerva motioned for her to take one of the two seats across from her with a wave of her hand.

"Very well…Minerva," she acquiesced.

"Hermione, where have you been these past eight years? You haven't returned anyone's letters nor contacted any of us yourself. Frankly, I was more than a little surprised when you responded to my letter. As far as I know, I'm the only one who has heard from you since your abrupt departure to Merlin knows where!"

Hermione's hand rubbed her still slightly throbbing head. She didn't want to answer these questions. This was precisely why she'd avoided returning in the first place. She sighed.

"That's how I want it to remain for now, too. Minerva, I didn't come here to be interrogated. I'll answer all of your questions…eventually. But for now, I believe your letter stated that you needed me. Whatever for?"

Minerva sat back in her tall padded chair, irritable accepting Hermione's lack of answer. "Ah, yes," she said. "Well, my dear, it seems as if my Defense Against the Dark Arts professor has decided to put herself out of commission by doing some atrocious thing or another. So, yet again, I find myself in need of a new teacher. Preferably a smart, level-headed witch with actual experience in the subject…" The Scotswoman was arching an eyebrow at Hermione almost accusatorily. Hermione herself was gapping at her in utter disbelief.

Minerva wanted her to teach? More to the point: She wanted her to teach DADA? Hermione was sure she was going mental. Better yet, that dear ol' McGonagall was going mental.

"Err…Minerva? Are you sure there isn't someone a tad more…qualified for the job?"

"More qualified?" Minerva scoffed at the idea. "Than you?" Hermione, you and I both know that the only person that might – might, but probably not – be better trained than you in DADA is that of Harry Potter himself. You even surpass _my_ level of expertise on the subject. And I've fought in _three_ wars now!"

Hermione took a moment to consider what her old professor was implying. In preparing for the Blood War, as it was called now, she _had_ become quite proficient in defense and combat techniques. After a miniscule amount of training, well, suffice it to say, she could have pissed all over Voldemort's inner circle singlehandedly – and she had, in fact. The position would also be a good fit for her as well. She'd been wanted to return to her home country for some time now. It was probably the reason she'd returned for this meeting in the first place.

Soaking in the offer completely, the witch began to nod her head, acquiescing to Minerva's wishes.

"Under of few conditions, of course," she said.

"Anything."

"I want full reign on the lesson plans. No interruptions from school board members, parents, or anyone. I want my students to learn hand to hand combat as well, even if a parental waiver for liability is needed. Lastly, I'll need housing with an extra bedroom."

"I can get you all of that, but I feel compelled to ask: why the extra room?"

"I'll tell you, all in good time," she said, firmly shutting the door on Minerva's investigation.

"Very well," Minerva said. "It'll be done. Will you be able to arrive on Monday?"

"Sure," Hermione said. "I must be going, then. Plenty to do before then."

With a final hug and goodbye, Hermione left the office and an extremely puzzled Minerva behind.

* * *

For Hermione, Monday rolled around quickly. By 5 P.M., she was packed and ready to go. She pocketed two small trunks, which contained all of her belongings and were charmed with shrinking and feather-light charms for easy transportation. She gathered the rest of her belongings and looked around the flat she'd lived in for the past eight years. Her eyes became misty with tears. This small space had been her first. She'd been witness to so many memories here, and to say goodbye to the place was far more difficult than she could have imagined.

She placed two sets of keys on the kitchen counter and walked around the now empty apartment, her hand out, lightly caressing the walls. With one final, solemn goodbye, she took hold of the one thing she didn't shrink and apparated to the front gates of Hogwarts.

She arrived with a pop, once again facing the cold metal bars designed to keep out unwanted intruders. This time, however, the wards around the gates recognized her and swung open of their own accord. She hurried to the carriage and climbed in quickly.

The carriage moved swiftly, and the sights flew by once more. She was at the front gates before she was able to register the end of the trip. Thoughts and worries had flooded her mind.

Minerva was waiting for her this time, and Hermione smiled upon seeing her old mentor. She took a deep breath before pulling the handle of the door to the carriage and stepping out.

"Hello, Minerva. How are you?" she asked.

"I'm good Hermione," she replied, stepping forward to embrace Hermione. While this was happening, Minerva felt a small tug on her standard emerald green robes and stepped back from the hug. She was astonished at what she saw.

"Excuse me, Miss, but who are you?" asked a small, timid voice.

Standing beside her was a small girl of seven. She had bushy brown hair and chic black frame, square glasses. What lay behind the glasses was most surprising.

"Minerva," Hermione said, "I'd like you to meet my daughter, Cassidy."

Minerva's cautious eyes flicked between Hermione's hazel eyes, and Cassidy's ever familiar emerald green ones.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I ownly own Cassidy. And the ideas. The ideas were mine....

* * *

**A Tale Untold**

**By sarcasticromantic0494**

**CHAPTER TWO**

The silence was so thick not even the Sword of Gryffindor could have cut through it.

Minerva kept looking back and forth between Hermione and the newly revealed young Cassidy. Her mouth opened and snapped shut several times, always on the brink of commenting, but never quite getting there. Hermione would have laughed if she hadn't been so worried about what would actually come out of the mouth. She'd stressed over her mentor's reaction for days on end – and she knew that it wouldn't be the worst one.

After a few moments of pure agony, Hermione found herself immensely relieved when the tall Scotswoman stooped to the girl's level.

"Well, Miss Cassidy," Minerva said, "I am Aunty Minerva. It's very nice to meet you!" Her voice was warm and enthusiastic, something the seven year-old responded to well.

"I'm Cassidy. Well, since you called me 'Miss Cassidy', I suppose you already know that. Were you the one who gave Mummy the new job? She was so excited. I was, too. Are you a professor? What do you teach? What house were you in? Mummy says Gryffindors are the best. I want to be in Gryffindor!" Cassidy rambled.

Minerva half-listened, instead finding herself looking over Cassidy's head to find her mother glancing at the pair warily. It was apparent to Minerva that the young mother had been nervous about the meeting; she assumed that this was the first time Hermione had brought her new world into her old.

"You certainly are a spirited lass, aren't you?" Minerva chuckled, "Just like your mum here, I swear."

Cassidy beamed at the comparison. Even Hermione allowed herself a small smile.

"Cassidy," Hermione interrupted, "Let's not take up Aunty Minerva's time. I'm sure she has important things to do." The chastised girl frowned at her mother, pouting. Hermione just gave her a knowing look, and the girl sighed, resigning herself to having her questions left unanswered.

Hermione turned to Minerva. "I'm sorry. She's quite enthusiastic about being here…"

"Nonsense," Minerva retaliated, "The girl is more than welcome to ask as many questions as she'd like. I'd be glad to answer as much as I can. However, we should, perhaps, start up to your rooms, no?" She offered a hand to the now youngest resident of Hogwarts, "Of course, I can try and answer a few of your questions on the way." As if a switch had been turned on, Cassidy began blathering again as she took the proffered hand.

With Hermione following closely behind, the trio set off. Hermione ended up in her own little world of memories throughout the trip through the enormous castle. She saw the third floor corridor from first year, Moaning Myrtle's bathroom from second year, and glimpsed a bit of the Whomping Willow from a window. She passed the Quidditch pitch, the Room of Requirement, and the entrance to the astronomy tower.

Sadness washed over her with these memories. With all of them, she couldn't help but remember those friends which she had lost, whether to the War or her sudden disappearance. Would any of them remember her? Would they even want to see her? Her wandering mind couldn't help but play the "What If?" game as well. Her mind was raging violent battles with her heart. She wasn't sure she'd be able to take it if it continued on much further.

It hurt too much.

Lost to her thoughts, she hadn't noticed Minerva and Cassidy come to a stop before a large canvas, much like the one that guarded her old Gryffindor Tower. Instead, she ended up plowing right into the pair, causing the entire group to stagger and fall into a tangle of arms and legs.

Cassidy was the first to recover. Her nimble and quick seven year-old body allowed her to spring from the pile quickly. She stood over the women still lying on the ground and began giggling. The giggling soon turned to fits of laughter. Minerva and Hermione were forced to join in as well.

From somewhere down the hall, a familiar voice called, "Minerva, is that you?"

The laughter stopped. Hermione's glee was immediately replaced by a various array of profanities and panic. She hadn't expected this particular meeting so soon. In fact, she'd hoped to avoid it for as long as possible.

The worried, but slightly amused face of Neville Longbottom came into view above her head. Before he was able to catch a glimpse of her face, she quickly turned over and pushed herself up on all fours. From behind, a hand was thrust into her face. Inwardly groaning, she placed her small hand in his rough, calloused one and felt herself lifted from the ground. Luckily, she managed to keep her face turned away from him.

Of course, in his natural Gryffindor fashion, he kept trying to meet her.

"You must be our new DADA professor," he said cheerfully, "Nice to meet you, finally. I'm the Herbology professor, Neville Longbottom." He offered his hand for her to shake.

"Hermione Granger," she whispered, taking it.

"Sorry? Didn't catch that," he said politely, keeping a firm grip on her hand as if to keep her from escaping. Which, in all honesty, she would have if she had the chance.

In her mind, she chastised herself. _So much for being a Gryffindor! It's only Neville! If you can't face __him__ then how are you going to face Ron and Har – anyone else?_ She thought.

She took a deep breath and used her free hand to brush the hair from her face, looking up at Neville with a defiant eye and a small smile.

"I always knew you would end up in Herbology," she said.

Neville withdrew his hand quickly. His eyes grew wide. His mouth turned into a perfect "O." He staggered back a little, as if the shock of seeing her had hit him in the face – hard.

"H-H-Hermione Granger?" he stuttered.

"In flesh and blood. It's no illusion, Neville, as I'm sure you're trying to delude yourself into believing."

"B-b-but…Why? Where were you? Why did you leave? Do Harry and Ron know you're back? What - "

"Neville!" Hermione interrupted, hands waving in his face, "Slow down! I'll answer all of your questions eventually. But for now, I need to get myself and my daughter arranged in our new home." She gestured to Cassidy, who, through all this time had been waiting idly against a wall, watching the scene with much curiosity.

Neville's reaction was very similar to Minerva's, perhaps, however, with a tad more vocalization. "Daughter? You have a _daughter_? How? Who? What?"

"All will be answered later," she said, "Come to my room after dinner? We can talk after I send Cassidy to bed."

The still stunned Neville simply nodded. Minerva felt it was a good time to intervene, and said, "I'd best get these lovely ladies settled. Neville, don't you have a class of second years to teach? Remedial tutoring, isn't it?"

That thought startled Neville from his stupefied state. He hastily said his goodbyes before running towards the grounds towards his endangered greenhouses. "See you later!" he called.

The women chuckled and turned to face the portrait. It was of a young girl holding a stack of books.

"_Reverto Dormo_," Minerva said. The young girl nodded and allowed entrance into an empty apartment.

Hermione followed Minerva through, and suddenly, the room was no longer empty. Hermione's startled eyes gazed at the room, painted in earthy tones of green and brown. A love seat and a long couch sat at right angles to each other, both flanked by side tables matching the small coffee table in the middle. An array of pillows sat atop the couches, the striped ones matching the rug covering the hardwood floors. The green walls were decorated with pictures of Cassidy and Hermione, as well as Harry, Ron, and Hermione from her school days.

She turned to Minerva, her eyes open with wonder and amazement. "How?"

Minerva shrugged. "Magic, dear."

Hermione merely nodded and walked over to one of the pictures. It was the one from right before she returned for the infamous "Eighth year." All the seventh years that had missed their final year due to the War had been invited to finish their schooling. Hermione and Harry had returned; Ron had been forced to enter the workforce to support his family. She blinked back tears, and her hand raised to caress the faces in the picture. It had been a happy time.

"How….How are they?" she asked, timidly.

"Ron is married now. To Cho Chang," Minerva said with a soft smile, "They have two children – Lee and June." Hermione nodded. She was glad her friend was happy now, and that he had a family of his own.

"And Harry?"

"Harry…Harry was torn to pieces after you left. They all were, really. No one could understand why you just left without telling anyone. But Harry…Harry was worse. He turned dark and moody. Became prone to fits of rage and anger without reason. Locked himself in his room for three months straight. It wasn't until Molly dragged him out by his hair that he realized how he was acting."

"And now?" Hermione's voice was hesitant. Did she want to know the answer?

"Now, he's Head Auror. Minister Shacklebolt offered him the position as soon as he had cleaned up a bit. Harry declined though. He said he wanted to work his way up, just like everyone else. And he did." Hermione sighed in relief. "Still, though. We're worried. He hasn't been the same since you disappeared. He broke poor Ginny Weasley's heart."

The serious moment was interrupted by Cassidy bounding over to Hermione, a book in her hand.

"Can I read this?" she asked, bouncing up and down. Hermione placed a hand on her head to still her, and read the title. _Hogwarts, A History_ was what her daughter had gotten her hands on. Hermione couldn't help but laugh and show the book to Minerva, who also chuckled.

"Like mother, like daughter," she said, and then gave the book back to Cassidy nodding.

As soon as the younger girl had scampered off to what was undoubtedly her new room, Minerva ushered Hermione through the rest of the apartment, finally landing in the office. She took Hermione through the room to a door off to the side. Opening it, Hermione found herself faced with a classroom. As the rest of the rooms had done before, it changed when Hermione stepped inside.

Hermione found herself gleefully looking at a fully equipped DADA room. Sparring and combat items lined the walls and mats were on the floors. Golems much like the ones from her old Dumbledore's Army days were in cabinet off to the side. Spell books were nowhere to be found. _This,_ she thought,_ is the way it _should_ have been. _

She nodded approvingly to Minerva and walked back through to her office.

"It's perfect," she said.

"I'm glad," said Minerva. "Now, you'll begin tomorrow. Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," she admitted.

"Well, I suppose that's good enough for now. I have to go take care of some business, but I'll see you at dinner?"

"Of course."

"Good," said Minerva, "Because I have to introduce you tonight."

Hermione blanched. She had forgotten about that. Well, not so much forgotten as shoved the horrid, slightly terrifying thought from her mind repeatedly. Panic seized through her.

"It'll be alright, dear. No one's going to attack you," Minerva reassured her.

"That's what you say now. Wait until people find out that it's me. Can you imagine what the press will do with this little tidbit of information? I can see it now: 'War Heroine Returns to Teach!' 'Brains of the Golden Trio: Back for Good?'"

"Don't forget Skeeter's favorite: 'Nasty Know-It-All Back, Damn it!'" Minerva laughed, and Hermione laughed with her. Then, suddenly, it became very quiet.

"What happens when…you know, _they_ find out?" Hermione asked.

"We'll deal with it – one step at a time," Minerva said, embracing her.

"Right," Hermione echoed, "One step at a time."

* * *

Next Time_: _

_The Great Hall buzzed with excitement. The students had, of course, been informed of the arrival of their new professor. Information simply traveled throughout the hallowed halls of Hogwarts._ _There were virtually no secrets in the school. That's why it was so peculiar that no one seemed to know the name of the up and coming professor: simply that she was, indeed, a she and had a daughter under the age of ten. _


	3. Chapter 3

A Tale Untold

**By sarcasticromantic0494**

**Chapter Three**

That night, the Great Hall buzzed with excitement. The students had, of course, been informed of the arrival of their new professor. Information simply traveled throughout Hogwarts. There were virtually no secrets when it came to the school. That's why it was so peculiar that no one seemed to know the name of the up and coming professor, simply that she was, indeed, a she and had a daughter under the age of ten.

This secrecy – something clearly unknown to the school – had students (and teachers) gossiping in ridiculous amounts.

"I heard she's a half-giant. You know, like Hagrid. They're supposed to be lovers or something of the sort," came the rumor from the Hufflepuff table. Gryffindor wasn't much more creative with their "half-centaur" story, and the Slytherins were…well, Slytherins. They were spreading the usual debauchery – tales of sex, blood status, and the War.

Only the Ravenclaws were anywhere close to the truth. She was smart, they said. Incredibly smart, they boasted. Of course, because of this, they automatically assumed she was one of them, a Raven claw. They had set about searching their past Housemembers for those whose pasts matched what was truly known about the professor. Naturally, they had come up short.

It was the night of the big announcement, and the rumors were escalating. Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, sat in her customary position: smack dab in the middle of the faculty table, overlooking the Great Hall. From her perch, she'd usually watch the laughing and teasing that went on daily, and even sometimes joined in on the fun.

Tonight, she was simply agitated. And hungry. Very, very hungry.

The two seats on her right were currently unoccupied. They were also the source of her frustration. The seats had been saved for the two guests of honor: Hermione and Cassidy. They were late. Extremely late. And Minerva was hungry. Extremely hungry. Still, the Headmistress refused to begin dinner without them.

And so, twenty minutes after dinner was supposed to have begun, here they still sat, stomachs growling, mouths watering.

Minerva snapped her fingers and called a house elf to her side.

"Mitzy," she said, sighing, "Go find the new professor and escort her to dinner immedi – oh, nevermind." The large wooden doors had begun to open before Minerva had finished the order. Hermione and Cassidy attempted to slide unnoticed into the Hall, but had failed miserably. Noticing this, Hermione took her daughter's hand and led Cassidy to the front of the room, ignoring the open stares she was receiving.

Minerva stood. "Excellent!" she called, "You made it!"

Hermione grinned sheepishly. "Sorry," she apologized, I had a hard time pulling Cassidy from her book." Neville and Minerva laughed knowingly.

"Students!" Minerva commanded the adolescents' attention, "I would like to introduce our new DADA professor, Hermione Granger."

A gasp rose in the crowd, followed by murmurs of excitement and disbelief.

Everyone knew of Hermione Granger. Even the muggleborns. It was impossible _not_ to know of her. She was a legend. Her valiant efforts in the Blood War had earned her an Order of Merlin, First Class, making her one of only two muggleborns to have received the prestigious award, the other being Lily Potter, who had the award given to her posthumously.

Hermione waved at the gossiping students in a failing attempt to gain their attention. In the end, Minerva had to resort to silencing the student body herself.

"I know that many of you know me," Hermione began, "You know of all my so-called 'accomplishments. You know my life story from beginning to about eight years ago. Yet while you may know that, do not presume you know me. I am smart, strong, and sarcastic, as I'm sure many of you will come to realize after you spend a little class time with me. I want you to know, though, that I refuse to be what you believe I am. Many believe I'm a hero. To be honest, I'd describe myself as more of a coward. I suppose what I'm trying to say, though, is that I want you to make your own judgment of me. I ask you to not hate me on principle, or even love me on principle, for that matter. Do not let society – or even me – dictate your opinion. Do some research, get to know me, and make your own decisions.

"In the next few days, I will get to know you – as a class. I make no promises to remember names – I do have to remember about 600 of them, you know – but in time, I hope to get to know you. Whether it be as a whole or as an individual. I look forward to working with each and every one of you."

Cheers and applause rang out. It became obvious that the students had gained a certain respect for Hermione. This time, a wave of her hand was enough to silence them.

"One more thing," she said. Hermione gestured to her mini-me, whom was now chatting animatedly with Minerva. "That's Cassidy, my daughter. She's seven, and lovely. If you happen to see her, send her back to me or one of the other professors, please. Thank you!" She turned from the student body and braced herself for the onslaught of gossip that was about to being. Choosing to ignore it, she seated herself between Cassidy and Neville and began to eat.

* * *

An hour after dinner ended, there was a heavy knocking on Hermione's new front door. She opened it and allowed Neville to sidle through the door carrying a bottle of Ogden's Elf Meade.

"Hey, Neville," she greeted her old friend, placing a chaste kiss to his cheek.

"Hello there, Hermione – Merlin, I can't believe I'm saying that!" Neville was clearly still the overzealous man he had been during his years at Hogwarts, though perhaps with a little less fear.

"Sit down," she ordered, pointing to the sofa, "I'll get us a couple of glasses and you can ask me all of those questions I'm sure you're just dying to ask."

"Sounds good to me!" Neville folded into the tan sofa and watched her as she procured two identical glasses and filled them to the brim with the meade. She handed him his, then sat on the couch opposite her old friend and sipped her drink.

"So," she said, taking a deep breath, "Let's begin."

"Okay…Question number one: where did you go?"

"Well, originally I went to Australia to retrieve my parents. I had placed them there under a memory charm in order to protect there. When I disappeared, I had finally been cleared to go get them…"

"But?" Neville prompted.

"They weren't there. Only their headstones were. They'd been killed – by a Muggle. Apparently, they'd been sued and ended up winning the case, which the man wasn't happy about. He snuck into their home and killed them in their sleep. I-I-I never got to say goodbye."

"Oh, 'Mione! No!"

"Yes," she said quietly.

"So what did you do after that?"

"While in Australia, I found out I was pregnant –"

"With Harry's child." It wasn't a question.

"The eyes do give it away, don't they? Yes, with Harry's child. We'll get to that in a minute.

"When I found out I was pregnant, I knew I couldn't return – though I did, briefly. Cassidy was born in a Muggle Hospital in London, where I went under the name Jane Potter. I wanted my daughter – our daughter, mine and Harry's – to be born here in England. I knew I would want to return eventually, and I wanted her to be a citizen. It was her birthright, just like her last name. It's Potter, you know. In case you were wondering. After her birth, I was in America only a few days later. I had waited out my pregnancy in Australia with some old friends of my parents, who also happened to be wizards. They set me up with a job in the American government, which was where I've been up until recently."

"So, _why?_ Why did you go? Better yet, why didn't you come back to _us?_" Hermione sighed. This was the question that was going to take a lot of explaining.

"That story goes back to the conception of Cassidy."

"Okay…"

"Do you remember during eighth year when I caught Ron cheating on me?"

"How could I forget?"

"Well, we broke up. And, unbeknowest to many, so did Harry and Ginny…"

* * *

**Eight years prior:**

_Hermione entered the Room of Requirement, tears streaming down her face. "Ron is a right bastard," she heard Harry say upon entering. She startled a bit, having not noticed Harry's presence._

"_What are you doing here?" She asked, then muttered, "Why aren't you out with your precious Ginny-kins?"_

"_We broke up." Harry's voice cut across the room. Hermione suddenly felt like a bitch. _

"_What? Why?" she asked, concerned for her friend. _

"_She didn't see the stupidity behind Ron's cheating. Wanted me to take his side."_

"_Oh, Harry! Tell me you two didn't break up because of me!" Harry simply shrugged, not wanting to lie to his best friend._

"_She seemed to think that he can do no wrong, that because he's lowering himself to your blood status you should 'just deal with it like a big girl.' She expected that I would agree with her, too. It was a bit of a nasty shock for her when I told her that I wasn't going to be ditching you in favor of her brother. She actually had the damned nerve to tell me I was a fucking traitor."_

"_Harry…I'm so sor–"_

"_Don't be. It's not your fault."_

"_B-b-but it is!" she insisted, looking down at her feet. Harry moved quickly across the room, took her headin his hands, and forced her gaze back up to meet his. _

"_No, its not," he replied sternly, "And besides, you're my best friend. Ron and Ginny have each other, but us – we're all the other has, now. I'd stick up for you anytime – no matter the consequences. You know that, right?"_

_Hermione nodded. _

"_Good. 'Cause I've got firewhiskey and I need my best friend to be my drinking buddy. You know what they say: Never drink yourself into a stupor alone!" _

_Hermione laughed and charmed to nearby objects into cups. Within the hour, they were smashing drunk and groping each other. _

* * *

"It only escalated from there," said Hermione, "In the morning, we both decided to ignore the fact that it ever happened. It was just easier then. Harry got back with Ginny after she came crawling back to him a week or two later, and a week or two after that, I was gone."

"Still, though. Why didn't you come back?"

"What did I have to come back to Neville?" she asked, blinking away tears, "Ron and I had broken up, which killed any chance I had of remaining in the family, even as a surrogate daughter. My parents were dead. Even you and Luna weren't there. If I remember correctly, you were out gallivanting across magical Asia. As for Harry…it would have ruined everything for him. He finally had the normal life he wanted: the girlfriend he thought he loved, the house he'd inherited from Sirius, and the stableness of not having to worry about Voldemort. He was finally getting his own say in his own life. It wouldn't have been fair of me to ask him to give that up again. No, staying away was for the best. It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, but I was for the best. For everyone."

"So why did you decide to come back then?"

Hermione shrugged. "To be honest," she said, "I don't really know. I missed England. My job with the government was becoming stale. My life just seemed…dull. I don't know. When Minerva sent that letter, I just…I felt like fate was calling me…home."

"'Mione?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you never answer any of our letters. We must have written hundreds over the years."

"I never answered because I never even read them…"

"What? Why?"

"Because. It hurt, Neville! Okay? It hurt!" Tears flowed freely from her eyes now; it was the first time she'd cried all night. "It hurt too much, Nev. I knew…I just _knew _that if I opened even _one_, I would come crawling back. And, wouldn't you know it, I was damned right. It was exactly what I did."

"So wait. You're saying that Minerva's letter inviting you here was the first letter you read – from home – in the last eight years?"

Hermione nodded, her tears flowing stronger now. Neville rose and moved to sit next to her on her little sofa. He wrapped his arms around her and held her sobbing face close to his chest for what seemed like eternity. His shirt soaked through to his chest, stained with her tears, but he didn't care. He knew she needed him there. Neville couldn't even begin to fathom the amount of pain she had to have felt during her whole ordeal. He just held her there, content to let her cry as much as she needed.

Still, he needed to know one more thing.

"Does Harry know?"

"About Cassidy?"

"And that you're back."

"No."

"Are you going to tell him?"

Hermione looked up, her hazel eyes steadying against his chocolate brown ones. She could detect a hint of concern. He was worried about her, she knew. Merlin bless him… She knew she couldn't lie.

"I don't know," was all she said.

* * *

**A/N: Next time:**

_The next morning, Hermione made it to breakfast on time, and relatively unscathed. She'd had a minor run in with Peeves on her way down to the Great Hall, but reminding him that she was staff now seemed to do the trick. With Cassidy trailing behind her and a headache pounding in her head, she entered the Great Hall and sat next to Neville, who looked to be in a state quite similar to hers._


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **Sorry for the delay, guys. Things have been a bit hectic around here, with a move and some computer restrictions. My posts from here on out may be a bit sporadic as I'm not sure when I'll get to have a computer next. Sorry.

Anyhow, here's your next chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

**A Tale Untold**

**Chapter Four**

The next morning, Hermione made it to breakfast on time, and relatively unscathed. She'd had a minor run in with Peeves on her way down to the Great Hall, but reminding him that she was staff now seemed to do the trick. With Cassidy trailing behind her and a headache pounding in her head, she entered the Great Hall and sat next to Neville, who looked to be in a state quite similar to hers. Procuring two small vials from her pocket, she set one in front of Neville and uncorked one for herself.

"Oh, bless you," Neville groaned, cringing as he uncorked the bottle, threw his head back, and took the small amount of potion as if it were a shot of tequila. Hermione mirrored his actions, grateful for the instant relief of the pounding headache caused by her hangover.

"So, first day of classes, eh?" Neville asked, chipper once again. "Who do you have first?"

Hermione groaned. "Seventh years."

"Oh, no," Neville said, "_That_ should be interesting."

"No doubt," Hermione replied. The Seventh years were notorious for heckling new professors. Three times they'd even managed to get a professor to quit. Even during Hermione's "eighth" year, her class had succeeded in getting not one, not two, but three Defense Against the Dark Arts professors to quit – in a single semester. To say Hermione was worried would be accurate.

"I'm sure you'll be fine," Neville supplied reassuringly before unceremoniously shoving a forkful of eggs and bacon into his mouth. "Hey, who is Cassidy going to stay with? I have my first two periods off, if you need me."

Hermione's mouth dropped open, her eyes grew wide, and her fork clanged against the rims of her plate. She'd completely forgotten about her daughter. It was an odd and uncomfortable realization.

"Ummm…Yeah, if you could take her that'd be great! I can send a house-elf to escort her back before third hour," she accepted gratefully.

"No problem."

The rest of breakfast passed with the typical playful chatter of the two old friends. Jokes were made, food was eaten, and lives and future plans were talked of. When the bell rang dismissing students to first hour, Hermione gave Cassidy a quick kiss, thanked Neville for watching her, and bolted to her classroom. She arrived at the door a few moments after the tardy bell.

With everyone already in the classroom, Hermione had the advantage of being able to slip in discreetly and observe the students. The surprisingly large group of seventh year students were wondered around the large classroom staring at the new layout and equipment in amazement. Hermione understood; there hadn't been a classroom quite like this before. It was unusual for the students.

Hermione waited patiently to see if someone noticed her. This was a test in their observation skills. So far, none had passed. She'd decided ahead of time that she needed to know just how much actual training they had had. When ten minutes passed, Hermione had her answer: little to none.

"Alright, floor it!" she called from her niche in the back of the room. The entirety of the class jumped. Heads swiveled to stare at her, unsure of how to respond.

"Sit. Down," she said as if she were speaking to a group of imbeciles. Which, on first impression, they seemed to be. Hermione leaned against a small table and watched as the teens lowered themselves to the mats hesitantly.

"Does anyone know how long I've been in here?" she asked, hoping that someone had noticed her but chosen not to say anything. The room remained deadly silent. She sighed, "Just as I expected. No one noticed that I slipped into to room almost fifteen minutes ago. Tell me, what is Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts is a course for learning theoretical defense against Dark magic that one will most likely never need or use." The voice drew Hermione's gaze to a very smug looking girl seated towards the front. Hermione eyed her carefully, sizing up the respondent.

"A Ministry textbook definition Ms…?"

"Ridgewood, Professor. Avery Ridgewood," she offered proudly.

"Well, Ms. Ridgewood, I'm very sorry to tell you that you're almost completely wrong," Hermione said. The smug, pretentious look on Avery's face slowly melted away.

"B-but…That's what Professor Criache taught us!" she argued vehemently.

"Yes, well, I believe Professor Criache fled the country upon threat of the War. In my opinion, that makes her unqualified to teach the subject. The only reason she got the job was that she was the only applicant," Hermione kept her voice smooth and indifferent; being able to suppress emotions – such as the irritation she was currently feeling towards her predecessor – had been a side factor of becoming involved in the War. "Anyhow, that definition is wrong. Can anyone tell me why?"

No hands raised. Not even a muffled voice spoke.

"No one?" She asked, "Fine. I'll simply have to tell you myself.

"Miss Ridgewood's definition is inaccurate because the class is not a theoretical study. It is not for potential, improbable situations. It is a practicum course for future problems that will undoubtedly occur. Give me a show of hands of how many of you were affected by the 'Blood War.'" Every hand went up. "Now, how many of you know, or knew, someone that was hurt or killed because they didn't know how to properly defend themselves?" All of the hands stayed in the air.

"You can put your hands down now. The point I'm trying to make is that far less people – far less of your friends, your family – would have died if DADA had been practicum throughout their years at Hogwarts. In fact, a great deal of them probably had no idea how to actually set the wards or cast the spells that they were simply told about. DADA is _not_ a theory class. Yet because the Ministry decided it was, millions of innocent people died."

A heavy silence floated in the room, and Hermione knew she had made her point. After allowing the thought to settle for a few moments, Hermione began handing out syllabi.

"This class, from now until I leave will be hands on from third year and on. Face it – first and second year magic is simply too unstable to allow in a combat situation. You will each be assigned a number. This number will be your lifeline: it will represent which armor and weapons you're to use. Yes, that's right, I said 'weapons.'

"Let me start off by saying this: I will be teaching you how to wield these weapons in an effective, and sometimes deadly, manner. I will also be teaching you how to defend yourself from them. That being said, should I see any actual harm or threatening occurring, I will have you expelled before you can say 'I was just joking!' This is a serious class, despite whatever pre-conceived notions you've gained in the past seven years. You must be mature when handling weapons, armors, and even yourselves. People could end up hurt if you so much as think about playing around.

"No, I don't want to come across as a hardass, but I feel I need to be honest with you. In class, I will not - no, cannot – deal with all the damn drama. Don't look at me like that. I was in your shoes not too long ago, if you recall. I know how easy it is to simply bitch at a teacher or a friend on a rough day. I'm fine with it. You want to bitch at me, you are more than welcome to. But _not in here. _Many days, this is going to be a combat zone. You don't want to be responsible for a puncture wound because you were screaming at one another and got distracted. Save the drama for after class or I'll report you as a potential threat. So, please, for the love of Merlin – and what little is left of my sanity – don't make me do paperwork. I _loathe_ paperwork."

A nervous chuckle arose, and Hermione smiled.

"So, we understand each other then? Good. Now onto business."

* * *

Hermione's speech repeated several times throughout the day, with her only brief respite being lunch, during which she ate a bowl of soup and a small salad. She loved the food at Hogwarts. The elves truly were magnificent chefs.

After lunch, she had a double hour with first year Ravenclaws and Slytherins. That was terrible. While they knew some of the book learning required, spells and hexes were not a strong suit, or rather any suit at all. By the end of the day she found herself exasperated and sorely disappointed in the teaching that had been done before her arrival. Finally the day ended and Hermione was able to sit at her desk and relax.

The newly inaugurated professor slumped back into the chair in the office of her quarters. She had barely had a moment to enjoy the peace and quiet when the door slammed open mere seconds later.

"Mum! Mum!" Cassidy bounced into the room with all the energy of an excited seven year old. She was followed by a huffing and puffing Neville Longbottom, who had owled Hermione asking if he could just keep her for the rest of the day because she was an "excellent assistant."

"Hey, little girl," Hermione greeted her daughter with a quick kiss on the forehead. "Did you have fun with Uncle Neville today?"

"Of course, Mum. I'm at Hogwarts. Guess what?!"

"What?"

"Madame Pince said she would let me check out two books at a time. Can I go get two now?"

"Oh, I suppose," Hermione said reluctantly, "Take Mitzy with you, though, and don't disrupt the library!" Cassidy bolted from the room in a run. Neville chuckled. Turning to him, she asked, "She wasn't too much trouble was she?"

"She was fine until she started running up here to ask you if she could go to the library," Neville said, finally having caught his breath.

"I'm sorry," Hermione apologized with a smile. "She does get excited by books."

"I notice. I suppose the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

Hermione rose from her desk and led him into the kitchen. "I'm going to make some coffee. Would you like some?"

"If there is one thing this job has taught me, it is to never turn down coffee when it is offered. Otherwise, you end up fainting from sheer exhaustion in the greenhouse on the fifth day you've worked here." Neville chuckled at the thought of that day. He hadn't gotten enough sleep due to patrolling nor had he grown fond of coffee, so before his first class, he'd chosen to take a nap under one of the empty tables. He had awoken to a group of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff first years prodding him with their wands.

"So I'm to take that as a yes?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied, then took a cup of coffee as it was offered to him.

The pair leaned against the counters in her kitchen, sipping their coffee and talking. "So how was your first day?" Neville asked.

Hermione groaned. "Neville, I don't know what that useless woman was teaching them! They know nothing of true defense or the value of it. When those seventh years are forced into the real world next year, they're going to be incapable of defending themselves should the situation arise! They're all going to get killed by either a creature or by thieves and people who still believe the War hasn't been won yet. I don't know if I'm going to be able to train them enough to be prepared for that. I don't know where to start either. I almost feel like I have to start over with the basics, but I know that there simply isn't enough time for that."

"I know," Neville replied sympathetically. "Criache was a nitwit, and one of the stupider ones, too, if that makes any sense. The only reason she got hired was that she was the only applicant, though I'm sure McGonagall already told you that. The 'curse' from our school years is believed to still be in effect. It still scares people off."

"You're joking!"

"I wish I was. You, of all people, should know that the people are merely sheep. They follow whatever voice bleats the loudest. And right now, that voice is the one shouting 'Curse! Curse!'"

"To think," she said, "that after all these years, people still have the same superstitions and feelings about the job. People are idiots."

"Oh, yes. Yes, they are," he agreed.

Half an hour later, empty coffee cups were in the sink and the pair were sitting opposite each other on the sofa when a heavy knock boomed from the front door.

"Come in!" Hermione called, far too lazy to actually answer it. The door remained closed and a few minutes later another knock came. Hermione called again, louder this time.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

"Oh, for goodness sake!" Hermione was slightly peeved now. She stood up and crossed the plushy rug to the large front door. The knocking repeated yet again as her small hand reached for the brass doorknob and turned, yanking the heavy door open in a fit of irritation. Annoyance was evident on her face. "I said come…"

"I didn't think it would be right, considering."

Hermione froze. She simply couldn't believe what – no, who – she was seeing. It was an illusion, she told herself. It wasn't real. This wasn't happening. Not yet. Not here. Not now. Her heart went into overdrive, beating rapidly in her chest as if it were trying to gain enough momentum to simply burst through her ribcage. Her head was spinning. Her eyes were wide. Her mouth hung wide open. Her feet were rooted to the spot. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think.

"Well, 'Mione. Aren't you going to invite me in? Or have the past eight years made you socially inept?" The intruder smirked slightly, amused by his own jeer at her as well as her stunned expression. She couldn't respond. She simply stood there, staring.

One word breathed out, a whisper.

"Harry…"

* * *

**AN:** I know, I know. That was kind of cruel. Still, you'll have to wait until next time.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** _Sorry for such a long wait, guys! I've been having computer issues galore! Here you go!_

* * *

**A Tale Untold**

**Chapter Five**

Harry was here. Harry was at her doorstep. Here. At Hogwarts. Now. To say Hermione was shocked would be the understatement of the millennium. She stood there, dumbfounded, simply staring at the black-haired, green-eyed man smirking at her. She couldn't speak, couldn't find the words, except for that two-syllable, rarely uttered name – at least around her.

Harry. Harry. Harry.

Here.

A hand waved in front of her face, startling her from her trance. Neville, ever the gentleman, had come to help Hermione with whomever had arrived.

"'Mione? 'Mione?" he asked. "Hey, 'Mione, you may want to have Harry come in. Especially if you want to avoid a stampede. The students have just been released from Study Hall." Hermione stepped aside and motioned weakly for Harry to enter. Despite Hermione's obvious reluctance to have him there, Harry stepped inside just far enough to allow Hermione to close the door. Neville game him a quick hug and then steered him and Hermione away from the door.

"So, Harry, what are you doing here?" Neville asked, curious as to how Harry knew she was here.

"I got a letter today from Teddy. Most of it was about how 'cool' his new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was. He went on and on and on about how she'd fought in the War and even faced Voldemort herself. He said he couldn't wait to learn hand-to-hand combat and weapons training, because she was going to teach them that in a couple of years. He talked about how she was so 'awesome' and wouldn't you know it, her name was Professor Granger." His voice was more than slightly hostile.

"Ah, I see," Neville said, mentally berating himself for forgetting to tell her about Teddy, Hermione's godson whom had surprisingly ended up as a Ravenclaw. Hermione would have had him today in her double-blocked first-year class today.

Hermione spoke for the first time since his arrival.

"Teddy's here?" she asked softly.

"Yes," Harry replied curtly.

"How is he? How is Andromeda? What about Molly? Fred? George?" Hermione asked in rapid fire succession. Harry stared at her coldly now.

"Why do you care? You're the one who left us all behind with no note, no nothing." His voice was icier than the North Pole at winter. Water passing through it would have been able to condense into ice.

Hermione visibly flinched. She knew he'd be angry, but she hadn't expected him to be so harsh and unyielding. Neville intervened before she was able to respond.

"Harry…"

"What, Neville? You're taking her side now? Did you forget about the fact that she abandoned you, too? Did you forget about the fact that you were one of us? You were one of the ones she left!" Harry hissed, turning on his friend.

"No," Neville deadpanned. "No, I didn't forget. But I did wait and hear what her reasons were before I judged her. And frankly, they were some damn good reasons. Reasons you, of all people, should wait and hear."

"I don't bloody care! Don't get me wrong, I want to know why she up and left, but it won't change a bloody thing!"

"Yes, mate, it will. Believe me, it will," Neville said, then turned to Hermione. "You need to tell him, 'Mione. He deserves to know."

"Yeah, I do!" Harry interjected, causing Harry to turn on him again.

"And you! You need to listen to her. Hear her out. Don't just shut down because of your feelings over what happened eight bloody years ago!" Hermione nodded mutely behind him. "Alright, now I'm going to the library. Don't worry about being interrupted, I've got it covered. We'll be waiting. Don't. Kill. Each. Other." Neville spun on his heel and left.

A thick silence floated over the room. The pair shifted uncomfortably. Both had crossed their arms stubbornly over their chest. Neither wanted to be the first to speak. After all, Gryffindors were known for nothing if not their stubbornness. Hermione opened her mouth to speak several times, but couldn't find the words to start her explanation, but found that her still shocked vocal chords wouldn't allow her too. Harry watched her, his eyes flicking over her curiously as if he would get information simply from her uncomfortable stature.

"Well?" he probed, finally. "Let's hear this…long awaited explanation." His voice held more than a trace of impatience. "Well?"

"Hold on, Harry!" Hermione snapped. "I'm still trying to grasp the whole 'You're here' concept. After all, I didn't expect to see you…At least, not so soon."

"Oh. I'm so sorry I'm such a burden, confusing you after all these years. After all, I'm the one who decided to pack up and leave with no warning or reason. I'm the one who didn't answer any letters that were sent. I'm the one who didn't respond to my best friends. I'm the one who completely messed up everyone else's life for my own damn selfish reasons!" Harry yelled.

"Hey!" Hermione yelled defensively. "I had my reasons! And you don't know them. So you don't get to judge me just yet."

"Hermione, you _left_. _YOU _left. There is nothing – _NOTHING_ – you can say that will make me forgive you for putting me – us – through the pain of losing out best friend."

"I did what I had to do," Hermione responded. "And I will _not_ allow _you_ to persecute me for doing what was right for me –" Hermione stopped herself short, realizing that she hadn't yet told him of Cassidy. After all, that would only make things worse. Harry, of course, only heard the 'right for me' part, and didn't notice her tight lips.

"You acted selfishly, Hermione. You thought about no one but your own damn self. We needed you. And you just left, only thinking about yourself."

"No! I thought about my daughter. That's who I thought about!" Hermione snapped. Suddenly, her mouth closed with a harsh click, and she mentally berated herself for not being more careful.

"Don't try and make yourself look bet – wait, what?" Harry snapped into a dazed and confused state, trying to comprehend what Hermione had just revealed.

Harry's reaction was something akin to Hermione's expression when she had first seen Harry. His eyes were wide, his mouth wide open, and his hands dropped to his side. Pure shock, was, of course, evident on his face. It was his turn to be rendered speechless, opening and closing his mouth several times, much like Hermione had earlier. Harry slumped onto a couch behind and ran a hand through his already messy hair.

"You have a daughter?" he asked finally.

"Yes," Hermione said, sitting across from him cautiously.

"B-b-but…_How?_" he asked.

"Harry, surely I don't have to explain to you of all people how sex works," she said with a small chuckle. Harry blanched.

"No, no. Of course not."

"Good."

"Does Ron know?"

"No."

"You mean you didn't even tell him he had a kid?" Harry questioned, angry once more.

"Shit," Hermione muttered under breath. Harry didn't realize…Why would he, though? Neither had spoken of the night, choosing instead to pretend it had never happened. At the time, that had been easier for everyone involved. It kept the pair from dwelling on it far too much. The pain it would have caused at the time simply wasn't worth admitting it to themselves – and others. Now, though, Hermione realized it may have hurt them more than helped. She racked her brain, trying to figure out how to respond best to that question.

"No, Harry," she said warily. "I didn't tell him he had a child." She cringed at the misconception that was about to take place.

"So he doesn't know he's had a child out there for the past eight years?"

"No –"

"How could you do that to him?"

"Harry, I didn't tell Ron because he doesn't have an eight-year-old child out there."

"Well, not technically, of course. She would only be - "

"No, Harry. I mean not at all."

"What do you mean, Hermione? Just spit it out already."

Hermione sucked in a deep breath. This was it. This was the moment she'd been dreading since he arrived at her front door. Well, if she was being honest, since she'd arrived back in London really. She bit her lower lip and looked away, glancing at one of the pictures on the wall.

It was a picture taken not too long ago, at Hermione and Cassidy's going away party thrown by their friends back in the States. Hermione was kneeling behind Cassidy, her arms wrapped around her daughter's waist. The pair was smiling into the camera, tears flooding their eyes. Hermione loved this picture. It had captured Cassidy's green, green eyes perfectly behind her glasses. Cassidy looked more like her father in this picture, the father that was standing not five feet from her.

Hermione choked up. "Harry," she said softly. "Oh, Harry…"

"What, Hermione?"

"Ron isn't her father."

"What?"

"Ron isn't her father, Harry."

"Well, then, who is?"

Hermione looked at Harry again, then gestured to the picture. "See for yourself," she said.

Harry stepped closer to the picture. His green eyes instantly found the child's face, drawn to them like a moth to a flame. He saw some of his own features in her – his nose, his messy hair (though that also, in part, came from Hermione) – but what stunned him most were the emerald green eyes that stared back at him from the small portrait.

They were the same eyes he saw every time he looked in the mirror.

Harry's head darted back and forth, looking from Hermione to the picture. His face became a sickly pale white. Slowly, he took a step back. His mind began to spin rapidly. His eyes blinked quickly and he slowly started to shake his head. It couldn't be. There was no way. The little girl – Hermione's little girl – couldn't be his. It was impossible. But yet, there it was. The proof was there. Irrefutable, Undeniable. After all, a picture is worth a thousand words.

A thousand words couldn't describe the scene playing out in Harry's head right now. He remembered that night, that one solitary night where this child had to have been conceived. He had tried not to think of it, had tried to push the pain of the memory from his mind. He didn't want to believe it was true. He wanted to believe – he forced himself to believe that memory wasn't really a memory at all. He told himself time and time again that it was merely a figment of his imagination. A fantasy that he'd had for years before.

Harry kept backing away from the picture as if it were Satan reincarnate. Hermione watched him intently, worried. She found herself upset to find that she couldn't read him any more. Not the way she used to be able to, at least. The feelings and emotions he'd once wore on his sleeve in front of her were now masked by a well-trained face, one that had been manipulated time and time again to keep Harry from being read. She had no idea what was going on within the confines of his raven black head.

Hermione sat nervously on edge, waiting for him to speak. She had a feeling of what would happen. He would scream and yell. He would seethe and fume. His magic would crackle in the air around them and his eyes would show pure hatred and contempt for her. She expected that. She was ready to take whatever he dished out.

What she didn't expect him to do was tumble backwards over the couch and land on her coffee table, snapping the wood neatly in two.

"Harry!" she cried, rushing to him. She kneeled down beside him and saw a fair amount of blood coming from a large gash in his left arm. She jumped up once again and ran into her kitchen, then returned with a dish towel. He was sitting up now, a good sign. Seeing this, she approached him cautiously, afraid he was going to lash out at her. She held the dish towel out at arm's length for him.

"Keep this on your arm with some pressure. That cut is going to need Poppy. I'm no good at healing spells," she said. Harry took the towel from her and hissed in pain as the soft mesh touched his open wound. Hermione held her hand out to help him up. In pure spite for her, he refused it and used his good arm to propel himself off the ground and back onto his two feet. Hermione frowned, but managed to bite back a rather nasty comment.

"Let's go see Poppy then," Harry said. Hermione nodded mutely and led the way out her front door/portrait and into the large hallway. The soft patter of their feet echoed on the stone, reverberating ever so lightly in the corridor, a constant reminder of the heavy words going unspoken. Soon the pair reached the Grand Staircase, where, typically, three connecting stairwells rested at the platform.

Today there were none.

There was no way up or down.

"Great," Hermione muttered. "Now how are we going to get there?" Harry, who had been trailing behind her a ways, came to a stop beside her.

"Great. Now how are we going to get there?" he echoed unintentionally.

"I don't know," Hermione said, shrugging.

"Oh, wow," Harry mocked. "The famous Hermione Granger actually admits she doesn't know something."

Hermione, enraged by the small comment, turned and walked back the way she had come. He obviously didn't want to be around her, so she wasn't going to force him to be any longer. After all, he knew his way around the castle well enough. After eight years away, she still remembered every nook and cranny of the magnificent school. Hogwarts had been his home. Surely he wouldn't forget it so soon.

"Where the hell are you going?" he asked. Hermione ignored him and kept on walking. She'd told him all he needed to know. She'd kept her promise to Neville. He knew about Cassidy, now, didn't he? Harry turned and half-jogged to catch up with her fast stride.

"Hermione! Where the hell are you going?" Harry repeated. He was exasperated and irritated now. "Hermione, for Merlin's sake, stop!"

Surprisingly, both to him and to her, she did. Hermione stopped and turned to him slowly, rage and fury evident in her eyes as they met his. It almost softened when she saw the green. Her daughter's eyes – no, Harry's eyes – were there, waiting, watching her suspiciously. Those eyes…those beautiful, beautiful green eyes.

"What, Harry?" she snapped.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

"I'm going back to my rooms, since you obviously don't want me here," she said.

"No, you're right. I don't want you here."

"Great. Thanks," she said, then turned to walk away once more.

"What do you want me to say, 'Mione?" he yelled. She stopped short at the once-familiar nickname being spoken by him. She kept her back to him as he continued yell. "'I'm so glad you're back with the kid I never knew I had?' 'I'm so exuberant that in less than an hour, you've effectively destroyed my life?' Is that what you want me to say? Is it?"

She stayed facing away from him. She didn't want him to see the tears streaming from her eyes. She knew he was right; she had turned his world upside-down today, made him question everything he thought he knew. It had happened in just a matter of seconds. It was his prerogative to be angry with her; it was his right to be upset.

Yet, she couldn't let his anger be, right or not.

"I'm sorry that my having your child has turned _your_ life upside-down. After all, you were the one who had to raise her on your own. You were the one who had to be in labor with her for seventeen hours. You were the one who had to figure out how to make ends meet while you were eighteen and pregnant with no parents, no friends, and no job. I'm so _very_ sorry that I did this to you. It's all my fault after all. You had no part in getting me pregnant, of course," she said. Her voice began as a hissing and ended up in a mild yell.

"Hey!" he yelled back. "You know that I would have been there if I had known. I would have given up everything for the child if that's what it took!"

"I did know that, Harry," she said, softer this time. "I knew back then that you would have done anything. But Harry, you had just gotten your life back for the first time since you were one year old. You were finally free! I couldn't tie you to something again. Not something so permanent as a child. You would have hated me. You would have resented Cassidy!"

Harry stood solemnly, taking in all she had just said. He knew that what she had said was true. For the eight years she'd been gone, he had been able to experience life in a new way, one that didn't require him always being on the lookout for threats against his life. There had, of course, been death threats made against him by ol' Voldy's remaining supporters, but none nearly so serious as to make him fear for his life as he had since he entered Hogwarts. His features grew soft.

"Her name is Cassidy?" Harry whispered. Hermione nodded.

"Cassidy Lilliana Potter."

"She has my last name?"

"With her eyes, Granger just didn't seem appropriate. Those eyes are Potter through and through. Besides, I knew that one day she would want to meet her father. And I knew that her father would appreciate the sentiment."

Harry simply nodded, not trusting his voice.

"I want to meet her," he said. "I want to meet my-my- my daughter."

Hermione bit her lip. She'd expected this. After all, who wouldn't? Harry had always been a man in search of a family. Now that he knew there was a child out there with his blood – his name – he would want to meet her. Still, she wasn't sure it was the best idea just yet. Cassidy had no idea that her father was in the very building that she was now living in. If Hermione were to randomly introduce her father, it could be disastrous. She also wanted to be sure Harry wouldn't just run away afterwards. She wasn't going to put Cassidy in a position of disappointment.

"Later, Harry. Later," Hermione said with definitiveness that even argumentative Harry took the hint. "Come on. Let's get you to the Hospital Wing. We may be able to reach another stairwell through my rooms."

* * *

**A/N:** _There you have it guys. Was it good enough? Let me know in REVIEWS!_


	6. Chapter 6

**A Tale Untold**

**Chapter Six**

Sunshine peered at her from behind the dark curtains covering the two large windows of her room. She groaned audibly and pulled the plush comforter over her head in an attempt to block the sleep-disturbing light that only reminded her of the classes she had to teach in such a short amount of time.

Wait, no. She didn't have to teach today. It was _Saturday_. Realizing this, she perked up a little and willed herself to pull the cover from over her face. It had been a fruitless attempt, anyhow. Once she saw sunlight, she was never able to return to the great white abyss that was her dreamland. Still, it didn't keep her from wanting to remain in the warm confines of her bed.

Today was Saturday, she told herself gleefully. A free day to do as she pleased…what a lovely concept! She could even have a lie-in, if she wanted to. She could simply just stay in bed, lazily lying there, unmoving in the lovely warmth.

Yes, a lie in sounded just lovely.

Hermione snuggled back into her bed, clutching the comforter tightly to her chin for warmth. She burrowed into the sheets and lay there, completely content in her act of sheer laziness. Yes, today would be a good day. Maybe even a great day, thanks to this lie-in.

"Hermione!" called a voice from the other side of her bedroom door. She groaned. It was Neville.

Hermione sighed and shut her eyes tightly. Perhaps if she just ignored him long enough, he would take a hint and go away. Maybe, just maybe, she'd be able to keep her much wanted lie-in.

"Hermione!" he called again. "I know you're in there!"

Apparently not, she thought as an irritated sigh escaped her. Slowly, she unraveled from her cocoon and sat up on her bed, silently cursing her friend. Whatever he was here for had better be damn good.

She stood, hissing as her bare feet came into contact with the cold stone floor and walked to the door, yanking it open angrily. She smiled, however, at the sight that greeted her.

It was a large, steaming cup of caffeinated life: coffee. It was held in the outstretched hand of one Neville Longbottom, fully dressed in khaki slacks and a blue sweater. She felt underdressed in her sky blue pajama pants and matching tank top.

"You know," he said, "I'm surprised you were asleep at all."

She took a giant gulp of the coffee and asked, "Why is that?" She ushered him out of the hallway outside her bedroom and into the living room, settling herself into the comfortable couch. She wanted to avoid waking Cassidy; she was enjoying the peace that came with not having an seven year old asking incessant questions.

"Well, freaking out and abstaining from sleep is usually a trademark of yours before a big event," he said casually, sitting next to her on the sofa. Hermione looked at him quizzically.

"Am I forgetting something, Nev?" she asked, truly puzzled at what he was referring to. Neville laughed.

"You truly expect me to believe that you forgot about the meeting with Harry and Cassidy today?"

_CRASH! _

The coffee cup in Hermione's hand fell to the ground, shattering against the stone. Neville, it seemed, had his answer.

Hermione's mind was racing with an assortment of profanities. How could she have forgotten? It wasn't something that most women took lightly. Her daughter was meeting her father for the first time in her life! Hermione's breath became short as the hyperventilating took over her body. Neville, noticing this, reached out and took her hand.

"Stop worrying, Hermione!" he said reassuringly, "Everything is going to be fine!"

She squeezed his hand, wishing it were actually comforting. His face contorted as the pressure she used became painful.

"Hermione," he choked out, "Hermione! You're killing my hand here!"

"Oh, sorry!" she said, releasing it. Neville rubbed it, trying to rid it of the leftover soreness from her death-like grip. Her mind was still on overdrive. How had she forgotten? How in the hell did you forget something like this? After all, hadn't she been trying to push it from her mind for the past week? Hadn't she been trying to keep herself from the massive paranoia that was now controlling her body? She mentally berated herself for being so stupid. She'd procrastinated in forcing herself to face the idea that she wasn't going to be the only parent in Cassidy's life.

"You need to calm down," Neville said slowly, cautiously. "You need to calm down or Cassidy will start freaking out as well. Do you want that?"

Hermione shook her head in slow, jerky movements. No, she couldn't let her daughter freak out about this. When Cassidy freaked out, her pre-mature magic went haywire and caused things to explode. She supposed these types of things happened when you had the two most powerful magical beings for parents. No, Cassidy freaking out would most certainly _not_ be a good idea.

She closed her eyes and forced her breathing to slow. Everything would be fine, she told herself repeatedly. She willed herself to believe that. It was futile. She was nervous as hell for this meeting. She wasn't sure she was ready for it. She wasn't sure Cassidy was ready for it, despite the eight year-old's vehement protests otherwise.

She thought back to the night after Harry's abrupt arrival, the night she'd first told Cassidy that she could meet her father. The little girl had been cautiously excited.

"When can I meet him?" she had asked.

Hermione had responded, "Whenever you're ready." She secretly wished her daughter wouldn't be. It would make things much easier on the twenty-six year old witch. Unfortunately, but as expected, that hadn't been Cassidy's answer.

"I think I'm ready," she had said. "I mean, I know that I want to meet him. That much is a given."

"Cassidy, if you're sure, then I'll make the arrangements," Hermione had said, "But if you're not, then it's okay. You have plenty of time to make your decision. There's no rush."

"I want to meet him," she said, more definitively this time.

"Okay," Hermione sighed, "I'll let him know and we'll work something out." She remembered kissing her daughter goodnight, and then turning to walk out of the room, only to be stopped.

"Mum," Cassidy had said softly. Hermione turned to her daughter and smiled softly.

"What, baby?"

"Will you tell me a story?" Cassidy asked. "You know, like you used to?"

"Sure," Hermione had responded, then walked back to Cassidy's bed and lied next to her on it. "What story do you want to hear?"

"I want…I want to hear about my dad," Cassidy had said. Hermione sucked in a breath. She hadn't exactly expected that one. "I want to hear about how you two met." Hermione's mind breathed out a grateful sigh. That story was an easy one, she thought.

"Well, it all started out on the Hogwarts' Express…"

Hermione had proceeded to tell Cassidy, who remained listening to the story with rapt attention, the story of how she met Harry.

The next day, the meeting had been set up. The arrangements had been made. Hermione had started hyperventilating.

Now, here she was, on the fateful day a week and a half later, having forgotten all about it, as if the meeting had just disappeared as she'd wanted it to all along. She was scared, she admitted. But she didn't know what she was truly scared about. She knew Harry would be lovely to Cassidy. After all, he'd always wanted a family. It was a fact that Hermione had struggled with when deciding to stay away. It hadn't seemed fair to deprive him of that. Yet, she had felt that in the long run it would be better.

In two short hours, she would find out.

It was ten o'clock in the morning, she found with a glance to the clock that hung on the wall next to the fireplace. The meeting with Harry had been set for noon at a room above the Hog's Head, generously donated to the couple by Aberforth Dumbledore, a friend of the pair, with only explicit instructions to "keep his place clean…in all senses of the word." Other than that, Abe knew nothing about the true nature of the meeting, something Hermione was grateful for. She wasn't ready to expose Cassidy to that kind of publicity. After all, she was the bastard daughter of the most famous witch and wizard in the entire world. Oh, yes. The press would have a field day with that one.

The plan was a complicated one. Hermione couldn't take Cassidy through Hogsmeade for fear of people asking too many questions. Besides, Hermione, as the newest member of the Hogwarts staff, was forced to chaperone the trip that would be taking place for the students to the small wizarding community. She had to be down in the Great Hall in half an hour for that "honor", actually.

It afforded an excellent opportunity, though.

Hermione, after performing all of her duties as a chaperone, would proceed to Hog's Head to meet Harry. Upon arrival, she would send Neville, who would be staying with Cassidy, a Patronus with the instructions to meet Arianna's portrait in the Room of Requirement. Arianna would then lead Neville and Cassidy through the secret passageway into the apartment above Hog's Head, where Harry and Hermione would be waiting.

Then, the meeting and introduction would take place.

Yes, it was complicated, but it would keep Harry, Hermione, and Cassidy safe from the prying eyes of the press.

Hopefully it would work.

Hermione sank further into the couch. This day was going to be far more stressful than she'd originally thought upon waking up just minutes ago. She sighed again and took a rather large gulp of coffee. Neville watched her with curiosity, wondering how she was going to fare for the rest of the day. To say he was worried about her would be an understatement.

He glanced at the clock. Five minutes had passed since either of the pair had said anything. Neville, having chaperoned previous Hogsmeade trips before, knew that Hermione was due down in the Great Hall in less than a half hour. Tentatively, he pointed this fact out to Hermione.

"Oh!" she cried. "I'd almost forgotten about that as well. I'd better go get ready to go."

"Alright," Neville replied. "I'll wait here for Cassidy to wake up and then take her to the library before its time to head up to the Room of Requirement. Does that sound okay?"

"It sounds perfect, Neville. She'd love that. Thank you so much for doing this. You have no idea what it means to me." Hermione said, choking up a little at the last part. She didn't allow herself to focus on it though. She didn't have time.

"I am more than happy to be of any help I can. You know that, Hermione," Neville said. "Now, you'd best be off getting ready."

"Right," Hermione said, standing from her position on the couch. She moved to give him a quick hug and a peck on the cheek. "Thank you, again."

Neville hugged her back and replied with a quick "You're welcome" before she scurried back into her room.

Hermione ran into her bathroom to take a quick shower, lathering her hair with apple shampoo and conditioner and finishing off with amber body wash. She loved the smell of both. Stepping out of the shower, she conjured a fluffy warm towel that she rubbed herself dry with before wrapping it around herself. She thanked Merlin for magic as she used a drying spell on her hair and then pulled it into a messy bun on the back of her head. She then walked into her spacious closet and found a plain black skirt and a fitted green sweater that she hastily pulled on before donning the set of professor's school robes she'd been issued for out of Hogwarts chaperoning trips – which pretty much meant Hogsmeade trips. She pushed her feet into calf high flat black boots and strapped her wand holster onto its place on her right forearm before leaving her room.

When she walked out, her quarters were empty, which she took to mean that Cassidy had awoken and been hauled by Neville to the library. With one last glance around the small apartment, she exited to through a door just to the right of the entrance. Since the episode with Harry, Minerva had found it prudent to put in a small passage way from the quarters of a professor to the ground floor Great Hall. It made the trip much easier for the faculty and all of Hermione's other colleagues were grateful for the addition.

Arriving at the Great Hall with two minutes to spare, thanks to the passageway, Hermione immediately sought out Minerva, whom, as Headmistress, would also be accompanying the students, and consequently Hermione, on the trip. The older woman had, of course, been informed of the planned meeting between Harry Potter and her DADA professor. She knew that Hermione would be disappearing later in the trip.

"I'm here, Minerva," Hermione said upon walking up to the Scotswoman's side.

"Wonderful!" Minerva replied cheerfully. "Take this list and start ticking off the names of the students who will be joining us today." Minerva handed her clipboard five lists, one for every year that was allowed to attend. Hermione took it and slowly began checking the students' names. All in all, just over 75 students would be going on the trip.

Ten minutes later, Hermione reported back to Minerva, who then ordered her to replicate the lists four times, one for each professor. Minerva then quickly went over the plan with Hermione once more. Her job, as Headmistress, was to keep the other faculty and students away from the Hog's Head until Hermione gave her the okay. It shouldn't be too hard, considering hardly anyone went there as it was.

At precisely eleven o'clock, the group began the trek down to the small Wizarding community. The walk took approximately thirty minutes, giving Hermione just enough time to arrive at the Hog's Head.

She walked into the small establishment, taking in the sight that looked exactly as it was when she had last seen it eight years ago. The bar was still dirty, as were most of the occupants that filled it. Good ol' Abe still stood behind the bar, dishing out drinks to his customers. He looked up when he saw her, and a smile lit his face.

In the year after the battle, Harry and Hermione had both frequented the bar, having been allowed to leave as they saw fit, one of the perks of being in an unofficial eighth year. They had come to know Abe well, and been on very good terms with the normally surly barkeep and owner. He'd told them plenty of stories about their beloved late Headmaster, and many toasts had been made in Albus Dumbledore's honor. He'd sent many letters to Hermione after her departure, something Hermione knew by the handwriting on the envelopes that had remained unopened.

Hermione smiled back and nodded to the man. She held up a finger to him, the international symbol for "one moment" and stepped just outside the door once more. She wandlessly procured her Patronus, and sent it with the simple message of, "I'm here." She watched the playful otter slowly fade into the distance and then stepped back inside, this time, walking directly to Abe.

"Abe, would you mind sending Arianna to the Room of Requirement? I need her to bring a couple of people through," she said as way of a quick, nervous greeting. There would be time for catching up later, she knew. Right now, she needed to get things done. Abe looked at her curiously, but did as she asked. Upon returning, he let her know that the group should arrive in about fifteen minutes.

"Perfect," Hermione breathed out. She sat on a barstool and ordered a butterbeer from her old friend, who immediately brought one to her. After taking a sip, she turned to Abe and asked, "How are you, Abe? It's been a long time, you know."

Abe chuckled at her words. "It sure has, lass. It sure has. I been good. Been doin' what I been doin forever now. The real question is: what've _you_ been up to, Ms. 'ermione Granger?"

"A little bit of this, a little bit of that," she replied ambiguously. She didn't want to give much away for fear of his asking questions or deducing the true nature of her meeting with Harry today. She wanted to keep things on the quiet side, or as much as possible, at the very least.

"Really, now? I 'adn't deduced that much for m'self." His sarcastic reply made her grin.

"Well, I'm glad you had the brains in you to do that much," she teased.

"Now, now, lass! Let's not be pickin' on the ol' man behind the bar now!" he protested with a grin of his own.

"Well, then who do you suggest I pick on?"

"Per'aps the Mr. Potter awaitin' you upstairs!" he said, in his way of attempting to coax some information out of her. It was clear he wanted to know what would be going on in his beloved apartment. She kept her mouth firmly shut, however.

"He's up there?"

"Sure is, lass. Seems nervous, too."

"As well he should be!"

"And why would that be, lass?" Abe asked. He leaned over the counter slightly.

"Ah, now, Abe, what's the fun in telling you that when it's so much more fun to simply tease you?" she said, giggling. "I should be getting up there though. I have to be there before Arianna arrives back."

"'lright, 'ermione. But don't you be expectin' to 'ave 'eard the last o' this!" Abe replied. She stood and made her way around the bar to hug the man before moving on to his apartment over the bar. When she arrived at the door, Hermione knocked and waited for Harry to open the door. She was surprised, however, when she was greeted not with his face, but with Neville's. Harry, it seemed, was focused on something that lay out of her sight from her side of the door.

Hermione sucked in a breath, and stepped through the door. She turned to look around and found, as expected, Cassidy standing awkwardly by the portrait of Arianna.

"I see you made it, then," she said.

* * *

**(A/N):** This wasn't actually how I envisioned it, when first writing it. When I started typing, I didn't like the way that everything I'd written had gone. So this was pretty much created on the spot. I hope you all like it though. Please review! It makes me feel like this story can actually go somewhere and be…well, read by people who (I hope!) enjoy it.


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